


Petrichor

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [199]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, post-Return, talking in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>petrichor: noun: PET-ri-kuhr: The pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a dry spell.</p><p>Coined by researchers I.J. Bear and R.G. Thomas in 1964, from Greek petros (stone) + ichor (the fluid that supposedly flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> the muse is a bit moody...

John lifted his face and took a deep breath in. Of course, today the rain is com-yep there it is. It had been a long spring, hot and dry, definitely not normal for London in May. He brought the rain with him, and the petrichor, that scent of the earth awakening...

"John?" Sherlock peeked around the door, a bit unsure, his voice still quiet.

"I'm here," he held his hand out for him.

"It's raining..."

"Yes, it is. You seemed to have taken the rain with you when you...uhm...left? Is that the word we should use? Shit. I'm sorry."

"I deserv-"

"No. You don't, I just need to adjust my vocabulary a bit. You have no idea -"

"You have the right to be angry and hurt."

John gigglesnorted, "Oh, love, when you showed up in my bed this morning, I went through every feeling or sentiment I could possibly think of, and do you know what hit me the hardest?"

"No." Sherlock shook his head, though it hurt, he took a deep breath, though his ribs ached and wrapped his arms gently around the man who stood in the rain and he leaned against him.

"Relief and love...yeah, I know, not what I expected either. I had stopped being angry at you a while ago. All I wanted was to be able to tell you...since you had gone was that I was sorry...and that I love you."

"How?" Sherlock mumbled against John's soaking wet back. "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

John turned carefully in his arms. "For all the times I didn't reach for you when you were there, all the moments we lost because I walked out the door instead of talking to you, maybe if I had come to you when you played outside my door, if I had stayed, just once, you would have known. You would've understood and you couldn't have left me..."

Sherlock shook his head again. "John..." He looked up into the rain, then looked at the shivering man in front of him and did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed him softly, then winced, as his lips were cracked and sore. "We need tea." He whispered. "I stopped for milk before I came home...I...uhm, the fridge is full of every kind I could find at five in the morning."

John opened his eyes, and laughed. He searched Sherlock's face for an undamaged place to kiss, which was the tip of his nose. "I..."

"...love you. Now, that we've had our romantic moment, let's go inside and get dry before we both catch cold?"

"Yes, love, you always were the more logical one..."

"Mmmmm...." Sherlock caught John's hand in his and led him back up the seventeen stairs and back to their chairs and tea and home.


End file.
